


Trouble in Paradise

by immen_sity



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Ficlet?, Light Angst, Possibly Unrequited Love, Secret Crush, Still figuring out tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immen_sity/pseuds/immen_sity
Summary: Based on 16x22 (Parents' Nightmare) - Barba's on vacation in St. Barts, but his mind is stuck in New York.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Trouble in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> (titles are not my strong suit, clearly)
> 
> trying my hand at something less fluffy. inspired by a re-watch of 16x22 (parents' nightmare) where Liv mentions that Rafael is in St. Barts. i've never been there but it looks like a place with great beaches! 
> 
> and thank you so much for the kudos and comments on my first fic - they mean a lot to me! <3

"Barba, I'm sorry to disturb you in... wherever it is rich ADAs take vacations. It’s about our case.”

"St. Barts, actually. All-inclusive beach and spa experience. A no-interruptions, _restful_ spa experience?" He tried to hide his mild annoyance - SVU cases and vacations did not make an appealing pair. But Olivia had texted him asking him to give her a call as soon as possible, and he sensed that she was waiting on his response before continuing with her investigation. Rafael felt obliged to send at least a couple of texts checking on the case each morning, but at least texts didn't demand an immediate response and could be saved for _after_ he got back from the beach. Vacation time was rare and he wanted to make every hour worth it. He'd told Carmen to hold his calls and take messages, but _of course_ Olivia Benson had his personal number and didn't hesitate to use it. After the William Lewis and Alex Munoz debacles, during which they'd shared many drinks and late-night dinners over heart-to-heart conversations at Forlini's, Rafael decided that it was time to share his cell number with her. After all, she was a close enough _friend_... right? 

"I'm sorry. This won't take long, I promise." He reluctantly put down his beach towel and stepped back into his room to entertain her questions. The case was bizarre - the 8-year old son of a couple embroiled in a vicious custody battle had been kidnapped, and the kidnapper had thrown the mother under the bus. He listened carefully, trying not to get distracted by the thought of tanning on the beach all morning, and fired off some advice - he felt confident charging the kidnapper who had been caught red-handed, but unsure about how to proceed with the parents and needed the squad to investigate further.

"Thank you. Sorry again to bother you."

"Keep me posted. I hope you get to the bottom of this." He really _didn't_ want to have to think about a kidnapping while on vacation, but better for him to be kept in the loop than _un_ pleasantly surprised when he landed at JFK at the end of the week, he supposed.

"Okay, thanks. You and me both."

Without even a goodbye, she hung up. He imagined her strutting across the squad room and updating the squad on what he'd just told her.

Relieved that the detectives had a new goal to pursue and hence probably wouldn’t have anything for him for at least a few hours more, he picked up his bag and towel and walked to the beach. It was an idyllic day - cloudless blue skies, a gentle breeze, and few enough tourists that he had a portion of the beach to himself (one perk of taking vacation time in the off-peak season). _Time to relax_ , he thought, as he turned his phone to Airplane Mode and grabbed a book he’d taken with him from his bag, hoping to get through at least half of it while listening to the waves lap against the shore.

But he couldn’t focus on the book, or the golden sand beneath his toes, or the azure blue of the ocean. He actively resisted the urge to grab his phone, grumbling that he should have left it in the hotel room. The last thing he wanted to do was think about work, so why was he itching to _work_ when the resort provided distractions in abundance? He thought of grabbing a drink from the bar or maybe talking a walk on one of the nearby trails, but his mind still drifted to his call with Olivia - her husky voice, her steely determination to crack a case, her visits to his office that often lasted hours. A part of him had hoped that her choice to call his personal line was motivated by something _not_ related to work, as unlikely as it was. She hadn’t even asked him how his vacation was going.

And he had to admit to himself that it stung.

He clutched his phone and gazed at the couple frolicking in the water a few hundred yards away, and another duo gleefully building a sandcastle in the distance. The beach was beautiful, almost unrealistically so, but he felt a nauseating, acute loneliness wash over him. He wished that he had someone to share the beach with.

Rafael realised that he _missed work_. He missed dashing to the 16th Precinct and soaking in the hustle and bustle of the squad room, even if it smelled like day-old coffee and pencil shavings most of the time. He missed the barbs he traded with Carisi and Olivia. He missed runs to the coffee cart with Olivia. He missed drinks at Forlini's with Olivia...

Heck, he missed Olivia Benson. He'd willingly give up his "no-interruptions, restful spa experience" for her company. Sure, he had multiple friends he could call or go on vacation with, but the only person he _really_ wanted as company was Olivia.

He didn't know what to make of that realisation. He and Liv were _friends_ , right? And it was normal to want to take a vacation to St Barts with a friend? A friend he'd shared multiple heart-to-heart conversations and emotional baggage with? A friend that he knew would stand by him in times of crisis, just like he had done for her? 

Heck, he loved Olivia Benson.

Rafael shut his eyes and tried to focus on the rustling of the leaves; the smell of the salty ocean air. He was in St. Barts for a well-deserved week of uninterrupted relaxation, for God's sake. He'd dreamed of vacations here since the day he arrived at Harvard and realised that these trips were nothing to his blue-blooded classmates. _This is a blessing. I'm not going to get another week like this for a long, long time more. I should be enjoying myself._ He thumbed through the hotel guide in his bag and caught a glimpse of their page-long activities list: _wood-fired pizza on the beach, live jazz music and cocktails, Balinese massages, nature trails._ More than enough to occupy him for the next three days.

But all he felt was loneliness.


End file.
